


The End of a Legitimate Businessman

by Halberdier



Series: A Legitimate Businessman [7]
Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, a legitimate businessman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halberdier/pseuds/Halberdier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far, we've followed intrepid problem sleuth Patrick Sloan as he attempts to hire The Midnight Crew to take down The Felt and a certain unknown mobster kingpin named The DMK. We've learned about his Troubles, met his Associates, learned some Secrets, reviewed the Investigation, and examined everyone's Lifestyle. Then we watched as everyone involved set out their Best Laid Plans. So now we'll finally see how all of this Ends. The series concludes with the chapters herein. You didn't think I'd leave you guys hanging, did you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is part of a larger series, so if you haven't read from The Troubles of a Legitimate Businessman all throughout The Best Laid Plans of a Legitimate Businessman, you should click the series link and get on that! But in case you have already read that, welcome to The End! And since it's been almost seven months since my last update, I've decided to include a recap of sorts. I hope you enjoy! Be warned for violence in the future and profanity in the present. And the past. And the future. It's everywhere.

Let's start with what we know, all right?

A number of months back, a private investigator named Patrick Sloan took a case from a young lady like any other, looking for protection from some lummox she'd played the Polski Pony with and who didn't take too kindly to her sampling some other fellow's pierogi. Most cases like this end one of two ways. First way, when the John gets told he can't see the dame, he decides he don't like getting delayed, he tries to stage a raid, so Sloan leaves him splayed, gets paid, maybe even gets laid. The second way, lady realizes the John was her desire, has second thoughts about her hire, tells him he's fired, Sloan's tired, wonders if he should retire. Pretty standard stuff, the bread and butter of a sleuth in a world that doesn't much take kindly to independent sleuthing.

Except this case ended in a third way. The lady went missing. Forever. Neither Sloan nor the beefbrain knew where she went. And the next case Sloan takes ends up taking a similarly tricky tack. Then another. Then another. Word on the streets becomes that Patrick Sloan can't properly protect his clients. Business dries up.

His associates find him a lead. Seems there's a new upstart in town. Drugs, disappearances, trashing “protected” properties, that sort of thing. But the only name that gets tied to this is just three letters. DMK. Patrick Sloan's associates, Peter Inesco and “Ace” Dick Dunn, end up tying these initials to the disappearance of at least one or two of Sloan's missing clients.

So it seems that to get anywhere to the bottom of this, Sloan needs to get all the way to the top. But how do you get at a Don when you can't even put a face to the name? Or a name to the name, for that matter. Well, Sloan thinks, if it takes a thief to catch a thief, it takes a kingpin to catch a kingpin. And everyone knows there's only two names in town with that kind of clout: The Felt's main man, Lawrie English, and the Midnight Crewster of many names, Jack Noir. These two have been locked in a turf war for some time, as both their legitimate business practices seem to come in conflict. Rumor has it that their supposed illegitimate business practices had called something of a ceasefire.

It all seems a bit tenuous, Sloan's figured. Maybe one of them would be willing to provide a favor in return for tipping the scales. But who to side with? Not a difficult choice, considering that English wasn't taking visitors, no one having seen the man in public in some eight years or so. Even if that weren't the case, The Felt seemed to be composed mainly of asocial weirdos. Either way, striking a deal with the boys in green seemed neither efficient nor desirable to Sloan.

The alternative was also not particularly desirable, as Sloan's colleagues continued to remind him, but Sloan was a man with no convenient options. So he pulled some strings and scheduled an appointment with José Vantas, president of Vantas and Son Real Estate, and nom de guerre of Jack Noir, Spades Slick, Blackjack Vance and all sorts of other cute monikers. He decided to sit down, adult to adult, man to man, and convince him to do things tit for tat.

This didn't go well.

So he shows up uninvited to a meeting of the Midnight Crew. This time he makes sure that his words are backed up with bullets, and his bullets are backed up with more bullets from more guns carried by more people.

This also didn't go well.

Luckily, it caught the attention of Paolo Diamante, aka Diamonds Droog, the coldly fuming second-in-command of the Midnight Crew. He decided shrewdly to dispense with the tension and stop the macho posturing and take Sloan up on his offer. Masterminding a brilliant plan, Diamante laid out the strategy by which the gangster squad and the sleuth team would take the Felt Manor by storm.

The idea of this dreamteam sat like oatmeal and sour milk in the guts of everyone involved. But in the end, it seemed the most logical course of action. Sloan needed an angle at the DMK, something only the mob could get him. Slick needed English's claws removed from the sensitive parts of his metaphorical behind. So maybe nobody does what they want. But sometimes morals have to be put aside in times of war. So with heavy hearts, but heavier wallets, everyone set off to spend their last day before the raid as they will.

But we covered all this before. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.

Because from here on out... well, things get a little dicey.


	2. Peter Inesco Awakens

The morning sun oozed cheerily into a room above Donnelly’s Olde Time, where it greeted four very hungover friends, heaped in a pile on the large bed, their eyes struggling to cling to the night. Peter Inesco was the first to wake fully, and a dim sense of happy satisfaction at everything that happened that night crept into his heart. Of course, it was followed by mortified embarrassment, which efficiently muscled its way past. And then severe terror followed suit, as the recollection of his upcoming plans tipped its hat as well.

He quietly and shakily rose to his feet, stealthily dressed, and made to leave. It did not do to be around others when so many emotions swirled throughout his being. But as he opened the door, he cast a look behind him and found himself rooted in place. On the bed, nestled next to Henrietta Donnelly, dishwater blonde hair glowing like a halo in the early morning sun, was Nadine Beaumont.

He sighed gently. He had only met her the previous night, but in the hours they spent together, with Henrietta and Patrick Sloan and the poetry of their hearts for company, they had fallen quite rapturously and mutually in love. He couldnt just leave without a word. But he also could not bear to say goodbye. It was terrifying to consider that he may never see her again, and he had not the courage to burden her with this knowledge. And yet, she had a right to know. To know how he felt. To know what may happen. And to be given the promise, if he could in any way do so, that he would return to her.

Looking frantically about in search of paper, Peter found a book on a shelf in the room and scribbled a quick but thorough letter in the inside cover. He plucked a cloth rose from the false bouquet next to the bed and slipped it like a bookmark in the space by the inscription. The book he then tucked next to a teddy bear that sat on her suitcase.

He smiled in spite of everything. She was a mature and brilliant woman, this much was abundantly clear, but she had innocent sweetness to spare. Perhaps the teddy bear was her way of keeping calm in spite of the chronic nervousness they had discovered they shared. They were so very alike, Nadine and Peter, and it seemed like fate meeting her here. Like life had required them to become so very close so very suddenly.

He cast a longing look at her, gently nodded to the unconscious forms of Patrick and Henrietta, and stole out of doors to reflect until sundown.


	3. "Ace Dick" Dunn Awakens

On the other side of town, where city streets gave way to the wider lanes of near suburbia, the sun here too made its way into the home of others involved.

Here in the bedroom of Mr. and Mrs. Richard “Ace” Dunn, Mrs. Richard “Ace” Dunn was nestled tight and safe in the arms of Mr. Richard “Ace” Dunn. Winnifred stirred contentedly against her husband in the early morning light. She rolled over slowly and kissed him awake. Together they greeted the morning, then rose, bathed, and dressed together. They cooked a hearty breakfast and woke their son, who waddled sleepily down the stairs in his superhero pajamas, complete with purple cape and cowl.

“Oh, Sonny,” Ace said over eggs, sausage, and waffles, “before I leave for work today, I wanted to give you a present.”

“A present, Pop?” Hearst asked.

“That’s right, son.”

“Gee whiz, Pop! It ain’t even my birthday or nothin’!”

Ace laughed loudly. “No it ain’t. But a father’s gotta spoil his child sometimes, right?” He reached under the table and pulled out a full-sized Louisville Slugger, wrapped with a bow. “See? It’s a bat, Hearst.”

Hearst gasped. “Golly! Is it mine? But it’s a whole bat!”

“Ace tousled his son’s hair. “You’ll grow into it! Practice with that and the things we talked about last night, and you’ll go real far, kiddo.”

Winnifred looked at Ace meaningfully. “Well, playing with a baseball bat and learning to punch are two very different things, yes?”

“They have more in common than you might think, sweetie,” Ace said. “But I’m just making sure he’s got his bases covered.”

“Haw haw! Bases! Good one, Pop!”

Ace smiled at his son and looked at his beloved family. Visions of everything he feared flashed through his mind. But then so did visions of everything he loved about them. And then, in that moment, he knew.

He knew that, come hell or all its horrors, he’d be coming home alive.


	4. Nadine Beaumont Awakens (And, In Doing So, Awakens Two Others)

It wasn't until then that anyone else above Donnelly's awoke. That someone else was the young Nadine Beaumont, who had just had the most magical night of her life. Nervous and alone in a new country, terrified of all the risks she had undertaken, she managed to very quickly prove all of her doubts wrong. Rather than be lost all by herself in the new world, she had quickly made a firm friend, who soon introduced her to more. This included a handsome young man who felt more like home than any countryside or cityscape she'd ever known. She came to know these new friends in ways she never expected she would, and yet it had felt so utterly natural, like they had been in that room together her whole life.

So she was quite distressed when, upon awakening, the new most important person in all the world was not in bed with them as he should be. Panicked and very self-conscious, she wrapped herself in a blanket and shook Henrietta awake.

"Etta, Etta," she whispered tremulously.

"Henrietta rubbed her eyes sleepily. "What seems to be the trouble, dearie?"

"He is not here, Etta," Nadine whispered.

"What's going on?" Patrick asked, groaning with the effort of waking up.

"Peter... your friend... my... He is not here," she repeated, tears forming in her eyes.

"Oh heavens," Henrietta said. "Here, let's get you Herr Brun before we go any further."

"Herr Brun?" Patrick asked with the raspy voice of one who used up all of his enjoyment hours previously.

"Mister Brown," Henrietta whispered to him.

"I know what that means," he whispered back.

"Oui, Herr Brun, my bear," Nadine said, nodding and hyperventilating. "He will help."

"If you're French," Patrick asked, "why is your teddy bear German?"

"If you are a detective," Henrietta growled at him, "why is it you can't find your manners?" She stood and trotted over to the suitcase, a loosely draped bedsheet trailing behind her, and plucked the proudly perched plush from his parcel promontory. "Here we come, here come Herr Brun," she began in a singsong voice, which abruptly stopped as it was met with a thud.

"What was that?" Patrick and Nadine asked, more or less in unison, though not at the same speed or in the same language.

Henrietta looked down and blanched when she saw what had caused the noise. "T'weren't nothing," she said quickly, unable to move.

Sloan stood and crossed to the suitcase, pulling his trenchcoat on like a bathrobe. "It didn't sound like nothing." He bent down to pick up the source. "See, here, a book."

"It isn't!" Henrietta shrieked.

Patrick and Nadine froze and looked up at her.

"Well, I've never been confused for an intellectual," Patrick began slowly, "but I do happen to know a book when I see one." He reached down and picked up the book that had started this whole commotion. "And I can say with reasonable confidence that this is a book. See? It has a title and everything."

"It doesn't have!" Henrietta squeaked.

"Sure it does. Look here," he said, her pleas for him not to speak the words printed falling muffled as if spoken to a frozen arctic wasteland.

Everyone's eyes widened, his included, as he read the title aloud, and time itself stood still as the words hung in the air. Silence fell. Nobody moved. Not even cleared their throats.

After a moment that lasted eleven centuries, Patrick repeated the title.

_Colin the Cabin Boy and the Seven Seamen, a Novel of Nautical Frivolity in Three Parts, Being Part the First, In Which the Spaces Below Decks are Explored Many Times Over_

Henrietta whimpered and covered her face with her hands, as if that could possibly hide the force with which it burned.

"Light reading, eh?" Sloan asked slowly.

"It is so good," she replied behind her palms.

Patrick opened to the middle of the book and paged through a chapter, his face, too, starting to flush. "Can I read this when you are done?" he whispered.

"Take it," she whispered back. "I've read it eight times, I have."

"Herr Brun, please?" Nadine pleaded weakly.

"Of course," "To be sure," "He's yours, sweetheart," "Deepest apologies, dearie."

Henrietta and Patrick stumbled over themselves and each other to hand her the bear, and in doing so tripped on their limbs and sheet and coat, sending the both of them and the book hurtling through the air in Nadine's direction. This was mortifying, of course, not only due to the thematic content of the literature, but also due to the fact that it was not itself a tome of insignificant weight, and the threat of Nadine sustaining injury did not seem unrealistic in their minds.

She surprised them, however, by deftly catching the novel with impressive reflexes and natural ease. "What is this?" she asked, noticing a false flower tucked in the page, and she opened it.

"No, child!" Henrietta reflexively cried.

"But look!" Nadine exclaimed. "Something here is written!" She scrunched up her face and focused enough to read the shaky handwriting that crawled across an otherwise blank page. As she did, she began slowly to realize what was written. She read the scrawlings as one might breathe in the aroma of a mug of freshly brewed coffee on a truly frozen morning in January. The words, intensely loving and intensely French, filled her heart and mind and soul with violins and bonfires and starlight, and she felt as if she were once again in his arms, as she had been all night, the only arms that could ever hold as much feeling as hers. He face painted a metropolitan museum of emotions as she read, but as her reading neared toward the end of Peter's note, she began to appear more somber.

"Patrick," she asked slowly, as if in a daze.

"Yes, doll?" he replied, awkwardly suspended from the bed by his chin and elbow and otherwise sprawled on a combination of the floor and Henrietta.

Her voice began to quiver again. "You are planning something dangerous, yes?"

Henrietta shot an indignant glare at Patrick.

He shrank and tumbled fully onto the floor. "I won't lie to you, sweetheart," he mumbled, "I don't think any of us have a good feeling about this."

"What are you planning, you venomous sleaze?" Henrietta hissed at him.

"I can't tell you," he muttered, unable to look either of them in the eyes.

A pall laid heavy upon the room, like a blanket of snow next to a factory in a Charles Dickens novel.

Nadine shook, but she began to breathe again, clinging to her senses and her teddy bear. "But..."

"I'm sorry."  
"I should have known..." Henrietta rumbled.

"I ain't got no choice, see?"

"But!" Nadine exclaimed. "But you care about Peter, yes? And he cares about you?"

Patrick blinked and looked at her. "Well of course, sweetheart. He's the best person I've ever met in my life, present company excepting."

"And you care about Etta, yes?"

"Well when you put it that way..."

"Then you will bring him back to me, and you will bring you back to her, yes??"

Both Patrick and Henrietta were speechless for a long time.

"I won't lie to you anymore," Patrick began after a moment. "Pete, Dick and I are getting involved in something difficult. Dicey. Dangerous, I suppose." He chewed on the side of his thumb. "I ain't never feared anything quite the same way I'm fearing what's to happen tonight, with the possible exception of what I'm feeling at the present moment." He reached out for Henrietta's hand which, to his surprise, she gave to him gently and warmly. "But this is our only option. It's either this, or nothing. Lots of good people have already been hurt. And my own livelihood, well, it looks to be on the line as well. But..." He inhaled and exhaled a few times before continuing. "I don't know anyone in the world more reliable than Pete and Dick. I believe in them more than I could ever believe in myself, in the laws of the universe, or in the breadcrumbs they've got locked up at Our Lady's. And if I can count on them, then you know they can count on me. And we've never backed down before, and we won't back down now. And our new friends, well..." He rubbed his earlobe with his free hand and squeezed tight with the other. "I can't say I trust them, but I got a feeling about some of them. And I can tell they've all got a lot at stake and won't go down easy neither. So if there's any way anyone up there is even glancing in my direction, I swear to God and I swear to you, Nadine, and you, Henrietta. None of this means a goddamn thing if we don't come back alive. So I'm coming back. And so is he."

Silence.

Sniffles.

"You'd best."

"You must."

Then, sincerity.

"I will."


End file.
